Dark Star (28 page)

His eyes met mine, and I gave him a tremulous smile. I threaded my way through the crowd toward him, hands clenched at my sides. That familiar, irritating knot had formed in my stomach again. Studying him, I tried to gauge his mood. He stood with an air of nonchalance, that easy confidence of his. He was as well-dressed as usual—better, even—but his tie was slightly crooked. I couldn’t read his expression.

“You should dance,” I said, feigning lightheartedness.

He lifted an eyebrow. “With you?”

For a second, annoyance overrode guilt. “Who else?”

“I’m just trying to be specific here,” he said. There was a note of teasing in his voice, but I felt too out of sorts for teasing.

“Yes. With me. Specifically,” I gritted out. His lips twitched upward. Ridiculously, I felt heat creeping over my face. To hide it, I let out an exasperated sigh and said, “See? This is why I never bother trying to be nice to you.”

A perplexed frown flitted across his features.

“Forget it,” I mumbled, twisting away.

He caught my elbow, turning me back to him. Jerking his head toward the dance floor, he slid his hand into mine and tugged me forward.

“If you step on my toes, we’re leaving,” he said.

On the dance floor, his fingers rested gently on my waist. His gaze lingered on the stitches near my neck, but he didn’t comment. Feeling strangely self-conscious, I didn’t meet his eyes. Instead, I focused on the couples around us. I didn’t recognize most of them, but nearby, I caught sight of Esther and Charles swaying, their heads bent close, barely the space of a breath between them.

Then, at the edge of the dance floor, I saw a man whose face I knew.

I tightened my fingers on Leon’s shoulder. My breath felt heavy, like I was carrying stones in my lungs.

It was definitely Tigue. I’d looked through enough pictures of him in the past few days to recognize him on sight. I knew the cut of his dark blond hair, the little scar that tipped his chin, the set of his jaw. I studied him surreptitiously, taking in every detail. The suit he wore looked like it had been sewn right onto him. He seemed about thirty, attractive, muscular—and not in a scary way. There was something modest about his appearance, too, as though he didn’t seek attention. Your eyes could slide right over him and forget him, unless you had a reason for looking.

A few other guests stood chatting with him, as though they found nothing disturbing about him at all. I supposed that made sense. Aside from being a probably-evil demon, he was well known in the Cities for his philanthropy. He exuded good manners, and he moved with an easy, careless grace. If I hadn’t known what he was, I might have even liked him.

A woman I’d met earlier in the evening smiled flirtatiously up at him as he lifted her hand to his lips.

The other Kin, at least, avoided him.

Keeping my eyes pinned to him, I tried to focus my Knowing. The room was busy and my frequencies were clogged, but I knew I could do it. I’d heard Tink through the tumult of the Drought and Deluge; I could find a way into Tigue, without Amplification, without my Nav cards. I gave Leon’s shoulder a slight tug and turned us, shifting closer.

Leon gave a short laugh. “This doesn’t really work if we both try to lead—”

He cut off when he saw Tigue. His reaction was more severe than my own. For half a second, he stood frozen, but I felt the sudden racing of his pulse and heard him suck in a breath. Tensed, waiting, he took a small step backward. Then his hand clamped about my waist, drawing me with him as he turned and left the dance floor.

“Leon, wait—”

He ignored me, bringing us to the far wall, where the crowd was less dense. After a moment, he released his grip on me and breathed slowly. Looking at him, I had a rare glimpse of Knowing, sensing his struggle to compose himself as his instincts screamed that danger was near.

“You know who that was?” he asked.

I nodded mutely.

His eyes searched mine. “Did you know he’d be here?”

Though I didn’t speak, he saw the answer on my face.

“Christ,” he murmured, pulling away and running a hand through his hair. When he turned back toward me, his expression was caught somewhere between fear and fury. His voice was a hiss in my ear. “Is that the reason we’re here? What are you playing at, Audrey?”

“Don’t make a scene,” I hissed back, glancing about me.

“Don’t think I won’t.”

“You are completely overreacting.”

He gave me his most stubborn look. “Get your coat. We’re leaving.”

“No!” I said, a little too loudly, then lowered my voice. “What do you think he’s going to do? In the middle of a crowded room?”

“Audrey?”

Startled, I jumped and turned toward the voice. It was Iris.

She’d moved so quietly that I hadn’t realized when she joined us. She smiled when she saw me, but her hair was in disarray and the bruise on her shoulder seemed glaring in the light. There was a strange, unreadable look in her eyes.

“Are you okay?” I asked, grateful for the distraction. Beside me, Leon kept his silence.

She shook her head. “I’m fine, just a little tired.”

“How long are you staying?” I asked.

I felt the pressure of Leon’s hand on my shoulder and turned to push him away—then stopped. A low voice came from behind me, and a chill formed in my stomach.

“Good evening, Miss St. Croix.”

Iris inclined her head. “Good evening, Mr. Tigue.”

I turned slowly, keeping my eyes lowered. My pulse drummed rapidly under my skin, and Leon’s grasp tightened as I raised my head and faced Patrick Tigue.

“I don’t believe we’ve met,” he murmured, gazing at me in a way that said he knew exactly who I was.

Close up, Patrick Tigue was good-looking, in a suave, charismatic sort of way. He looked clean-cut, and not at all like he was secretly plotting to bring destruction upon everyone in the room. His smile was broad, his skin a warm, sun-kissed tone, and his expression held not a hint of malice. He looked very human.

His eyes, though. I could see the difference there. They were blue and empty, like the flat surface of a swimming pool.

I kept my chin up and was glad that my voice didn’t shake. “Audrey Whitticomb,” I said.

He held his hand toward me, and I realized with a flare of alarm that he meant to shake mine. I stared directly at him, not speaking. My frequencies were jumbled, but I was getting a sense from him—indecipherable, but strong. I lowered my eyes to his hand, the lines that crossed his palm, the smooth band around one finger.

The ring caught my attention. It looked silver, though it caught the light strangely. It was simple, unadorned. I’d seen rings like it before, but there was something else familiar about it that I couldn’t quite name.

“Miss Whitticomb?” His query was soft, but my eyes snapped to his. He was still waiting.

I swallowed and took his hand. His skin was warm, dry, and not unpleasant. I looked up at him, and his eyes crinkled in faint amusement.

For the space of a second, my senses cleared. My Knowing shot through me, a beam of knowledge and understanding too fleeting for me to grasp. I pulled my hand away, cradling it against me. My gaze shifted from Tigue’s as I caught something else in his depthless eyes.

I know your mother, his eyes told me. I know you.

There are some places it’s best not to look, I thought.

Some places look back.

A shudder ran through me. I drew away, trying to shake the sense that he was staring into me, through me, into the spaces of mind and memory. Into my history, into the dark of my dreams. Harrowers had abilities, I recalled. Just like Kin. And Tigue—he Knew.

I know your blood, he seemed to whisper. And he smiled.

“Let’s go cool off,” Leon said, pulling me away.

“It was nice meeting you,” Tigue said, that crooked smile curving his mouth. His words lingered in the air, attaching to me like shadows.

As Leon propelled me away, I tried to organize my scattered thoughts. I felt off balance, and more frightened than I cared to admit. I’d sensed something in Tigue, something deeply hidden, a secret just out of reach—but I couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d also sensed something in me.

Leon thrust a glass of water into my hands, and I downed it in long gulps, letting it cool my throat. Keeping my gaze at the wall, I concentrated on the music drifting behind us. Soft violins and the melancholy moans of a cello.

“Subtle, Audrey. Very subtle,” Leon said. He grabbed my coat, and before I could protest, he’d thrown it over my shoulders, set my drink aside, and aimed me toward the door. We passed Iris, who gave me a troubled look but didn’t interfere.

“Can you let Esther know I’m leaving?” I called to her, and saw her nod.

Outside, the snow continued. Huge drifting flakes caught the light, the sort of gentle snow that always happens in paintings. I couldn’t enjoy it. My thoughts were in turmoil, and Leon’s hand at the small of my back guided me toward the car, heedless of how fast I wanted to go.

We drove for a few minutes in stony silence. Leon didn’t speak, and I couldn’t seem to form words. Anxious and angry, I twisted my hands in my lap, wrinkling the fabric of my dress. Tigue had scared me, but I didn’t want to think about that. I focused on my anger, instead.

Leon kept his gaze determinedly forward. In the distance, the Minneapolis skyline loomed chilly and bright against the snow. The highway bent toward the city. The minutes dragged on. Now and then, I flicked a glance toward him, noting the tightness in his jaw, the tension in his arms.

Finally, I couldn’t take it any longer.

“We need to have a talk,” I said, trying to ignore the unease that roiled within me.

He didn’t even glance at me. “Damned right we do.”

“Because this attitude of yours? It’s getting a little old,” I said, crossing my arms and staring outward. If he wouldn’t look at me, I wouldn’t look at him. I gazed into the heavy darkness, watching as the lights of passing cars turned the falling snow gold. My throat felt thick; my face felt hot. “Look. I’m sorry, all right? I’m sorry you didn’t have a choice. But I didn’t have a choice, either. I didn’t ask for this any more than you did.”

I heard his breath catch. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about you. Being my Guardian.”

He didn’t speak. When I chanced a look at him, I saw his lips part, but no sound came out. Eventually he let out a low sigh. “Audrey—”

“I get it, all right?” Now that I’d started, I couldn’t seem to stop. “I know you have to look out for me, but that doesn’t mean you get to dictate everything I do.”

“We’re not discussing this now.”

My phone rang, but I silenced it, not bothering to look at the number. “I didn’t ask to be your burden,” I railed. “I don’t even know why you’re Guarding me, because—surprise, surprise—once again no one thought to tell me.”

Now he sounded impatient. “You’re not a burden.”

“Thanks, Leon. That’s the sweetest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

“What is it you want from me, here?”

“Nothing,” I choked out.

His face was unreadable, his knuckles white against the steering wheel. “You want another apology? Is that it? I’m not sorry. I’m your Guardian. I’m not going to stop protecting you.”

“I know. It’s your duty,” I snapped.

“It’s not like that,” he said. “I care about what happens to you.”

“You have to. Isn’t that how it works? You don’t have a choice —the switch gets flipped, and now you’re a full-time babysitter. Lucky you.”

“You don’t have any idea what you’re talking about,” he retorted.

“Because I’m just some dumb kid, right?”

“Because you don’t know what it’s like to be called!” he shouted, then lowered his voice. “I can’t—I can’t talk about this right now.” There was a strange, panicky edge to his words, but I didn’t have the chance to process that. Leon’s phone rang. And, unlike me, he answered.

I slumped back into my seat, fuming silently. But my anger began to evaporate as Leon spoke.

“No, she’s fine,” he was saying. “She’s with me. We’re on our way back. We’ll be there in a minute. What’s going on?”

I fished through my coat pocket and retrieved my phone, looking at the missed call. Mom. Apprehension stirred. I turned toward Leon, waiting.

“Yeah, I know—” He broke off, frowning. There was a long pause. “Understood,” he said finally, flipping his phone shut. Then the stern sidekick who always followed the rules and loved lectures on caution pressed his foot to the gas pedal and started to speed.

“Leon?” I asked.

“It’s Tigue,” he said softly. “He’s got Iris.”

***

We found my mother in the kitchen, surrounded by an assortment of weapons. She stood bent over the table, her hair pulled back in its customary bun, her hoodie draped over the chair beside her.

“What’s going on?” I asked, rushing forward. Her explanation to Leon had been brief: Tigue had kidnapped Iris from the country club, and the Guardians were mobilizing. The details were confused. Someone had seen Tigue pushing Iris toward the door, but before anyone had realized what was happening, it had been too late.

Mom glanced up at me, her expression grim. “We have to hurry,” she answered, before returning to her array. She had knives and throwing stars and a length of chain, a few pieces of metal that might have been darts. Some of the weapons I couldn’t even identify. Methodically, she took each weapon in her hand, then either returned it to its place or stuffed it into the bag slung from her arm. “I spoke to Ryan. There’s Harrower activity all over the Cities. The other Guardians have their hands full. I’m going after Tigue. Leon, I’ll need you with me.”

Leon nodded and started to speak, but I cut in.

“But what happened?” I asked. “Why did Tigue take Iris?”

Mom paused, weighing a knife in her hand. “We’re not certain what his plan is. But if it’s what we suspect—”

“You think she’s the Remnant?” That hadn’t occurred to me before: Iris was seventeen, a year older than the other girls who had been bled. But if Tigue had her …

I felt sick. I thought of Tigue—those blank eyes, the chill in his tone. I recalled that sense that he’d been staring into me, through me, that he had Known me. Known my blood. Iris had been beside us; perhaps his Knowing had given him insight into her, as well.